Witness Protection Program
by Priest of Life
Summary: Non-Sburb AU where Jake English was just your normal high school teacher, until he witnessed a murder and had to be hidden. But, unfortunately, the Witness Protection Program somehow fucked up and now he must hide in the same place he was meant to avoid. Rated T just in case.
1. Prologue

**Author: I have no idea how long this will be, and no idea when I can start the next chapter, being I am in the middle of two already. This was just a completely random idea that I had. I hope you all enjoy the actual story to come ... whenever I get around to posting more chapters. **

* * *

I am not a drag queen, nor am I a transvestite or anything else that involves dressing as a woman. And I never will. Period. Why am I mentioning this? Well, it's a rather long story—a story that does, in fact, involve me dressing as a woman, and if I had to go and do it again, I wouldn't. Trust me.

So, why, exactly, did I have to dress as a woman? It involves the Witness Protection Program. What they don't want you to know is that sometimes they can be major fuckups. Really. Take my advice and just gun down the person after you yourself. It will make life easier and save you an inhuman amount of embarrassment.

Their excuse is that a virus had gotten into their system and swapped around two alternate identities. I don't buy it one fucking bit. A fuckup is a fuckup. No excuses allowed.

The reason this happened is that I witnessed a murder next door to my house. Luckily I was the only one home and no one was hurt. The murderer broke out of prison and vowed to come back and kill me, the person who called the cops. The Witness Protection Program created alternate identities and jobs for my family and me and sent us away. The only problem is that my identity was swapped for someone else's. Therefore, while my family, well, wife and daughter, was pretty much vacationing in the freaking Bahamas, I was stuck back here as Jaykqueline Strider. And that is only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 1

**Author: I have decided to write the first chapter tonight. I will try to alternate between fanfics as best I can. Enjoy.**

My name is Jacob Hiram English, and I am a historical disasters teacher at the local high school. I am well loved by the students—mine and those who I have never met before (you'll understand why). I have a wife, who just so happens to be the president and CEO of the Betty Crocker industry, and two children, John and Jade. My life was normal and simple. And I liked it that way. And then it happened.

"Mr. English," a student asked. He was John's best friend, and the little brother of my best friend. I guess it just runs in the family. His name is Dave Strider, and he always wears these stupid aviator shades that John gave him one year for his birthday. I almost never see those two separated. In fact, if I never heard John rant about how he "isn't a homosexual," I would swear that those two are a thing.

"Yes, Dave," I answer.

"If your wife runs Betty Crocker, then why are you a teacher? Aren't you like, filthy freaking rich?" For some reason he wears that stupid smirk on his face.

"Yes, it is true that we are extremely wealthy, but I love to teach and share my knowledge with developing young minds. Some, needing more help than others, like yours." Yeah, he and I are kind of in a feud. Don't ask because it's another story. John just gave me that usual death stare. He always protested mine and Dave's feud. I don't know why, exactly, because it's just so much fun.

I ignored the stare and all other comments from the Strider kid and continued to teach. With one minute left of class, I ended the lecture and informed the students on the next unit. "Okay, chillun, Next week we'll start on the foundering of the RMS Titanic, which is my absolute favorite disaster of history, so you all better fucking pay attention. Especially you, Dave." I gave Dave a death glare like the one John gave me. I also tended to develop the mouth of a sailor during that class. I have no idea why. Perhaps Dave is rubbing off?

Fortunately that was my last class of the week, and when the bell rang, the students weren't the only ones running out the door and hollering in celebration for the weekend. I kind of made it a weekly tradition to do something different and random at the end of each Friday to entertain the teachers in my hallway. Today, I walked out like a diva, struttin' the stuff that only a fine pimp can handle. And none of the people in that hallway were pimps. Well, I hade my suspicions on Mr. Vantas, but who knows with that guy.

When I got home, about a half hour after John and Jade, I saw a note on the counter top in the kitchen that said that Jane had an emergency business meeting to attend and would get home late. Not five minutes later, John and Jade told me that they were going out with friends. "Alright, but make sure you finish your homework," I shouted as they left, knowing that they wouldn't even touch the accursed things until early Monday morning.

I had a ton of papers to grade for Monday, so I decided to do that while I had the house to myself. It was peaceful—something extremely rare with three teenagers. Yeah, for some reason, Dave lives with us. Woo fucking hoo. Anyway, I should have known that the peace wouldn't last long, because around eight o'clock, just after I had finished grading everything, I heard a scream and two gunshots next door. I ran outside onto the porch and looked over, but the darkness of night obscured my vision some, and I saw a shadow come out of the nice old lady's house next door. The silhouette raised an arm toward me, and I ran inside just before a bullet lodged itself in the door right where my head was. I ran to the bedroom to grab a gun and called 9-1-1. While I was on the phone, the man entered my house and began rummaging through the place, tearing up anything and everything he came across. I was upstairs hidden in mine and Jane's walk-in closet. The police arrived just as he was entering our room, and they stormed up the stairs and spread out. I could hear his footsteps coming closer and closer, and the doorknob began to twist. Then, all of a sudden, I heard something big hit the ground. I heard people wrestling around until the man was handcuffed. After I was sure that they were out of the room, I walked out of the closet to find a police officer looking around for something. He noticed me and spoke up. "Are you the owner of this place?"

"Yes," I replied. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I could take that guy. Yes, I used to be an adventurer, but that was before I was married and had kids.

"Come with me," the cop said. I obliged and went to the police station. On my way out of the house, I noticed that it looked like a hurricane had swept through the place. After about twenty minutes at the police station, I was able to leave and go back home, where police were still there, taking pictures of the place and picking up evidence. The coroner had also arrived and carried out someone in a body bag. I really hoped it wasn't that kind old lady. She was a long-time friend and practically considered a member of the family. She would always bake a pie or a cake for us, and we would take her out for dinner. Yes, believe it or not, there are still good people in the world.

Jane came home as soon as she heard what happened. I explained that everything would be all right and that the man was locked up. She seemed to be calmed by that, but I could tell she was still tense. We packed a few clothes and stayed at her parents' house that night. The kids stayed over at one of their friend's house.

On Saturday, Jane and I cleaned up while we had the kids go to the mall to hang out and leave us alone. We had no idea that we were in danger until we received a call from a number we had never seen before. Jane answered the phone.

"Hello? … Yes, why? … What? … How can this be possible? He was just locked away last night. Surely nothing would've happened in that time frame. … Are you sure? … Alright, I guess we can be over in a little while. What about the kids? … No, I have to have both of them. Okay, we'll be over in a little bit." After a few minutes, she hangs up the phone and looks at me. "We've been called into the Witness Protection Program."

I couldn't believe this. "What," was the only thing I had managed to say before she cut me off.

"That was the Witness Security Agency. They said that sometime during shift change at the jail, the murderer escaped. They think that he's out to get us for calling the cops on him. They said that me being the CEO of Crocker Corp. was the only thing needed for us to get in. They want to speak to us immediately."

"What about John and Jade," I ask.

"They said that the murderer poses no threat to John. Why he would go after just Jade, I don't know." Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. I could tell she was scared, which is extremely unlike her.

We arrived at the building a half hour later. Some guy who I can only assume was head of the whole operation greeted us and showed us around. "As soon as we heard, we knew we had to do something," he began. He spoke with a lisp. "Miththuth. Crocker, being tho important, you have allowed your family to move patht motht thtandard prothedureth. Within the next twelve hourth, we can have a new location thet up in another part of the country, even the world. We already have your identitieth thet. At the end here, you'll retheive your new I.D. cardth." He was right. We received our new I.D.s right after the little tour. Immediately, I noticed something wrong.

"Uh, Mr. …"

"Captor."

"Captor, right … uh, I was wondering, is there some sort of problem? Perhaps my identity has been mixed up?" I showed him my card, which had the face and name of a woman.

"Well," he said, "I do believe that'th what the thythtem hath you ath. I can go recheck if you'd like."

"I'd like."

"What, the fact that our son isn't included in all this isn't a problem?" Jane looked at me with a slightly angry face.

"Well, it is, but I'm sure they know who needs to be protected." Just then, Mr. Captor arrived back with unsettling news … for me, anyway.

"Mr. Englith, I'm afraid that ith, in fact, the identity that hath been thet for you. Unfortunately, we cannot go back and change identitieth or destinationth, which remindth me, you will all be in the Bahamath until we can get thith guy captured and, hopefully, killed. Your plane ticketth will be given to you thortly, and your plane leaveth in four hourth. I would advithe packing up and heading to the airport ath fatht ath you can."

"Okay," Jane agrees. I, on the other hand, was in a state of resentment because I have to play a woman. There arose another problem when the tickets were brought out.

"Why are there only two tickets," I asked, really frustrated at this point. Mr. Captor looked at the I.D. and looked up the destination again.

"It thayth that you are to be thituated in a hotel downtown. I have no idea how thith happened. I'm terribly thorry."

"Well honey, I don't think you have to worry about John. He'll be with me, I guess." I was trying to be hopeful, but then I was interrupted.

"Oh, no, Mr. Englith. Being in the proximity of the thity, you cannot be with your thon. You cannot be with anyone who may know who you are or what exactly you're doing. Now, if you come with me, we have excellent thpecial effectth artithtth that can make you look exactly like the picture."

I lowered my head. Jane came over and tried comforting me, assuring me that it won't be long. Just a few days and then we can go back to normal. We said our goodbyes and she left to pack up and take Jade to the airport. I went to the makeup area. They did a pretty fucking good job on it. I couldn't tell any difference between the picture and myself, but there was something familiar about it. The next day, the mask and backup mask was finished and I received my job and what hotel and what room I would be staying in.

And my expression was one of utter disappointment when I saw the job. I was to fill in for the historical disasters teacher at the high school. In other words, I was to play the part of a genderbent me. Fortunately I had an accomplice—the school cop. He was part of the Witness Protection Program, and a dear friend of mine. Which means that he would also know my identity, and be the only person in the entire building to know my identity.

Monday came around all too fast. I had to go in an hour early to get oriented to the building and somewhat interviewed by the principal. After that, I was free to roam around until school started. My friend, who is black and always jokes about it, decided to walk me to my room. Fully knowing who I actually am, he has to bring it up. "So, Jake, this is what you're doing these days."

"I feel like a drag queen," I whispere back at him. I didn't notice anything, but this must be when he made a move I wouldn't realize until later.

"You look like one, too," he sayid back and laughs. To this, I stomped on his right foot with my left shoe. Wearing high heels does have its advantages.

"Oh my god. I am so, so sorry," I said in my best mock-apology and mock-woman voice. "I am such a klutz in heels." I covered my mouth with my left hand to add to the effect. Really, it was to hide my smirk. Both he and I were beginning to draw attention there in the middle of the floor with students beginning to come from everywhere. As the bell rang, my friend finally let go of his foot and left, muttering one thing, "I have to get a picture of this." I ignored that and headed upstairs to my room, number 407.

When I got there, students had swarmed around the door. John and Dave were the two closest, and they stood out quite a bit, being a little taller than the rest of the class. I was a little nervous that they would recognize me. I move past everyone and get up to the door. I search my waist for my keys before I realize I'm in a dress and couldn't hook them onto a belt loop like I usually do. I then start to panic, feeling all around my body and looking in my purse, red to match the dress and shoes. "Where are my keys, I lost my keys," I said over and over. I searched and searched through the purse before I heard jingling coming from a not-so-pleasant spot to be hearing jingling from. Immediately after hearing it I stood straight up and my facial expression went completely straight. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw John and Dave smirk. They obviously heard the jingling as well.

Just to make sure they were where I thought they were, I nervously shook my chest a little bit. I could feel all the students' eyes on me with their faces beginning to smile with excitement. I heard the jingling again. I slowly looked down into my shirt and saw a glint of silver. I immediately looked up. "Oh, that sonofabitch," I muttered to myself in the most feminine voice I could pull off before reaching down and grabbing them out from between my fake boobs. I then tried each of the four keys on the lock. None of them worked. I looked around and saw Mr. Vantas in the doorway of his room staring at me like I was this weird piece of ass that just walked in. "Okay, those aren't the right keys," I said to myself while turning around and checking my purse again. I once again got a straight face when I discovered my keys in the bottom of the purse. The same purse that I had just finished checking over a minute before. The first key I tried out unlocked the door. Go figure.

As everyone got settled in their seats I wrote my "name" up on the board. When they were all seated, I took attendance and reintroduced myself under my new identity, which I couldn't help but think is oddly familiar. "Okay, class, my name is Mrs. Jaqueline Strider." _Wait, that's not right …_ I looked down at my hand, which had the pronunciation of the odd name written down on it. "I'm sorry, I am Mrs. Jaykqueline Strider." Suddenly, I realized why the name was so familiar. "I do apologize for that. It's such a difficult name to remember, even though I've had it and gone by It for my entire life. I know, you'd think I would've gotten used to it by now, but apparently not." _Great, English, you've gotten yourself to ranting about stuff. _ I quickly quitted my rant and asked the students what unit we were on, just to fill in the role. I was told by Eridan, one of the troublemakers, that we were on the New Madrid earthquake of 1811. "Nice try, Mr. …" I looked at the seating chart to convince the students I had no idea who they were. "Ampora, but you were just caught in a lie."

"No he wasn't," John spoke up. trying to convince me otherwise.

"I'm sorry, Mr. English?"

"Wait, how do you know me?" John seemed to have a suspicious feeling, but I saved myself.

"Well, Mr. English, I know you from pictures that my husband has shown me of you and Mr. Strider over there. Very _awkward_ pictures." I emphasized the "awkward". I had seen all the pictures. Dirk has shown them to me several times.

"Wha—what do you mean by awkward," John began nervously before Dave cut him off.

"John, no, don't even start this. I don't think either of us want to know."

"Beautifully said, Dave," I said. "And John," I turned back toward John and lowered my voice to a loud whisper, "if you ever talk back to me again, I will fucking bitch slap your ass all the way down the stairs and into the deans' office. You understand me?" I gave him a death glare that hopefully he wouldn't recognize. And he didn't.

"Fine, just, next time, call me Egbert." He sounded nervous and his face was facing down at his desk. I smirked, knowing that I had scared him. I then saw my friend pass by the door, holding something up. I couldn't make out what it was before he disappeared.

Aside from random friends of mine being creepers and creeping past the door, I felt like I would actually have a little bit of fun with this.


	3. Chapter 2

**Suddenly, a new chapter appears out of the blue! I'm sorry for the ending. But the story will get better.**

* * *

For someone who had just done their own makeup for the first time, I must've done an amazing job. None of my students recognized me. I was honestly surprised at how well I could keep the fake feminine voice. I had also forgotten that John and Dave were somehow able to take my class twice a day. I think John did just for easy grades, and Dave because either John did, or he just wanted to annoy the fuck out of me. It worked either way. They were in both my first hour and seventh hour. This, unfortunately meant that I had to put up with them twice a day, and now dressed as a woman.

Now, most of the hour went by smoothly, but we had an Amish student who was apparently on his rumspringa and wanted to try out public education. The poor kid never had any idea how much he was missing until he was in my class. Specifically that hour. Of course Dave, being the idiot that he is, would somehow find a way to fuck up a perfectly good lesson, though it was the same one that he already sat through six periods prior. A few minutes before the end of class, and thus the end of school, we were getting to Titanic's collision with the iceberg. I made the mistake of allowing Dave to tell the story.

"And the ship hit the damn block of ice because the lookouts were trippin' out on LSD and all that shit, and three hours later is was under water." He always did have a way with words.

"Uh, what's LSD," the Amish kid asked. Being the person that I am, I didn't want any of my students looking like stoners, so I took the liberty of answering the question.

"Well," I began, "LSD is a drug. It's called acid, which is a hallucinogen. You know, like hallucinations? Well, when you take it, it screws with your brain, making you see all these different colors and everything becomes distorted. Next thing you know, you're seeing taste, tasting sound, smelling colors, and touching flavors, and it makes you feel all happy inside. Then it makes you want to do anything because you feel invincible. And the worst part is that you sober up at the completely wrong time. Seriously, the first time you take a hit of the stuff, and next you know you're sobering up just after you jump off a twenty-story building because you thought you could fly like a bird. And the last thing you think before you hit the ground is, 'Oh shit, I'm dead.' And then it's over." Just then, I heard clapping behind me. This, of course, caused me to jump about ten feet in the air because I wasn't expecting it. My friend was sitting in my chair right behind me.

"Well, that was quite the depiction." He smiled that stupid smile that he gets when he knows that he can now hold something against me.

"And had I known that you were there behind me the entire time, I would have been more creative and descriptive." I gave him a dirtly look. Just then the bell rang. "Oh, thank God, the bell," I mumbled to myself as everyone began leaving the room. I turned back around to face my friend, who has always gone by the name "Mayor." Why, I have no idea. It was just a nickname that developed when we were both young and it just stuck, so that's what I have always called him. When I looked at him, I saw him sporting an evil smile as he pulled out his iPod. "No," I said as a warning, knowing full well his intention.

"What? I figured that since we haven't been able to do this in a while, we might as well now while the dress allows." His smile grew bigger. He plugged his iPod into the speakers on the computer and turned up a song that I wish I had never heard: Looking for a Good Time by Sherry Vine. He stepped out into the middle of the floor, dragging me with him, and began to dance. Unfortunately, there was no getting out of it. I had to dance with him if I wanted away, but that apparently wouldn't do this time. Before the lyrics were supposed to start, he turned to me and said, "You know the words." Damn it.

I had no choice, so I sang and danced.

_"Goin' out tonight_

_Feelin' alright_

_My dress is skin tight_

_ I'm lookin' for a good time_

_Had a rough day_

_Now I wanna play_

_Get outta my way_

_I'm lookin' for a good time_

_Hangin' with my friends_

_Ain't no time to pretend_

_Party never ends_

_We're lookin' for a good time_

_Wanna make the show_

_So we gotta hit the road_

_Don'tcha tell me no_

_Come on, let's go!"_

And then the principle walked in. As soon as I noticed, I shouted, "He made me do it!" while pointing at Mayor.

The principle just laughed a little. "You know, every Friday after the final bell rings, Mr. English does something completely random and unexpected just to make everyone laugh. I think you will make quite the replacement while he's away. And I also think that that might be in store for this Friday." Great. Now I had to do this in front of the entire hall, but it was nothing compared to what would happen on Tuesday.

As we were all walking out, I turned back around to Mayor and held up my clenched fist in his face. "See this," I asked.

"Oh, what manly hands you have, Ms. Strider," he replied with a grin.

"Yeah, well remember its formation. Because the next thing you do like that will cause me to stick it somewhere, and it won't be going in like this." When I whisper-yelled "this," I snapped my hand in the duck beak formation typically associated with fisting. Mayor, of course, didn't catch on until I was half way down the hall, when I suddenly heard, "Oh my god!" I turned around and saw him bent over a garbage can, gagging.

"Do I—" I heard the principle say before being interrupted by Mayor.

"You don't want to know." He then returned to his position over the garbage can.

.

**… Suddenly Dirk's P.O.V.**

"What?!" I shouted into the phone. I only knew this Captor guy for a couple days and already I could tell that we wouldn't get along.

"Well, Mr. Thtrider," oh my fucking gog, don't even get me started on that damn lisp of his, "it theemth that thomething hath gone wrong with the thythtem."

"Oh rly?!" Yes, I actually said it like that. I was pissed. "I would never have guessed, especially since I can't even be with my own wife!" No, instead, I was stuck in some hotel, playing the part of web designer and husband of some random woman filling in for an old friend at the high school. Needless to say, I was pissed.

"Well, I'm thorry! We are trying to fix the problem ath fatht ath we can, but it might thtill take a few dayth."

"Okay, just so long as I don't fall asleep tonight then have some random hairy-ass dude come sneaking into bed with me, I think I can manage." I was still a few hours away from the hotel. And while I had to stay at this potentially shitty place, guess where my wife got to stay—that's right, the highest rated resort in the Bahamas. Lucky fucking me. At least I still had Dave to keep me company—or so I thought. They didn't even let Dave stay with me—something about him not being a target or anything, which is total bullshit considering that his nieces were with their mother! But at least he was with his best bro, leaving me behind to cope with having to live with a stranger—or so I though again. Perhaps that was always my problem. Perhaps I just always thought too much. Intelligence does come with a price.

Skipping ahead a few hours, I had finally checked into the hotel after driving back from the airport six fucking hours away. Why six hours away? Who knows? Not me. After I checked in and received my room key, I was informed that my roommate was already there.

Just then, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. I answered it, hoping it was the Witness Protection Organization calling to tell me that they've fixed the problem, but no, my luck wouldn't hold out because it was a call from the last person I would ever want to talk for rather good reasons. "Hello," I began.

"Dirk! I'm so glad that Jane gave me the right number! You know, this is just so stupid that I couldn't keep it to myself, but you just have to know!"

"Just spit it out, English," I was already irritated.

"I am in the Witness Protection Program!" He seemed ecstatic as ever, which I could never figure out why because things were pretty tense between us ever since the wedding.

"Yeah, big whoop. I am too." I spoke nonchalantly, mainly because I was nonchalant. Big fucking whoop.

"But that isn't the best part—hold on, someone's at the door."

.

**Jake's P.O.V.**

I know is wasn't standard procedure, but I felt that if I could make Dirk laugh, then I could reduce tension between us and we'd go back to being friends. I called to talk to him, but before I could get to the good part, I heard someone at the door. I quickly scurried off to the closed to get my wig on and headed to the door. "Hold on, I'm coming," I called as I approached the door.

.

**Dirk's P.O.V.**

"Hold on, I'm coming," I heard a voice call. At least it was a woman—a woman who sounded uncannily like my wife, but I wasn't about to let her get the door for me. Wait, did I just hear the same thing through the phone?

I opened the door quickly as to not give this random person the chance to open it. I am always dominant. Always. When I opened the door, there was a woman standing right there. She looked uncannily like my wife as well. We just stood there, staring at each other in a rather awkward silence for a minute or so before I hung up the phone. "Uh, I'll have to call you back," I said before finally hanging up. but it was weird because I could have sworn I heard my voice come out of this other person's phone as well.

.

**Jake's P.O.V. … again**

I began walking over to the door, but before I could get to it, it swung open, nearly hitting me in the face. Standing on the other side was no one else but Strider himself. "Uh, I'll have to call you back," he said after a minute of awkward silence.

"I guess now would be a good time to explain why I'm dressed as your wife …" I trailed off, scratching the back of my neck nervously. I was prepared only for the worst. I could sense the yelling building up in Dirk's throat. "But if it makes you feel any better, I was just about to do that over the phone. Uh, hehe."

"Of all the possible means of torment I could have wound up in, it had to be this," he said, surprisingly calmly.

"Well, it's not like we haven't been in the same room before ... or shared a bed before," I said sheepishly. He glared at me, giving me this look that said, "Don't even go there!" And I understood perfectly. It was the exact reason things were so tense between me and him, and also the exact reason why that was the first time we had talked in fifteen years. It was even the first time we'd seen each other in the past fifteen years. It's wasn't the absolute perfect reunion ever. And I could tell he was trying not abscond the fuck out of there. It was probably because no matter how horrible this was (for the both of us) he would much rather not stay out in the streets.

This awkward silence was doing nothing, so I awkwardly stepped out of the way and let him enter the room entirely. To this day I have yet to determine whether that wasn't as awkward, or just worsened it. For once, it looked like the great Dirksen Strider had no idea what to do. It was actually a pathetic sight, and one that I could go without ever seeing again. "So, uh," he said, effectively breaking the silence. He was trying his hardest not to look at me. "Is John staying here too?"

"No," I replied. "They said he wasn't a target, so staying with me would be too dangerous."

"Huh. They said the same thing about Dave. I was hoping to have at least _him_ to stay with, but I guess they had other plans."

"And what, exactly, does that supposed to mean? Do you not like this situation? Because if so, you can shut up because I clearly got the short end of the metaphorical stick! Oh my gog, now you have me talking like Karkat!"

"I don't know who that is, but whatever. You don't need to get started with me. This isn't what I would call my ideal situation!"

"And you have room to talk because … " I led him on.

"Because I was hoping to get to stay with my family!"

"Well you know what? I was hoping to stay with my family as well. But no! Of course, I wouldn't. And don't even think that gives you room to talk, because the last time I checked, you weren't the one that had to dress like a goddamn woman!" That sort of ended the argument. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm a little tired from today, and since it's dark, I'm going to bed. If you're going to make any noise, please feel free to be quiet about it." I wasn't sure if that last sentence made any sense at the time, and I didn't really care. It was a king size bed and I was planning on having it all to myself. Dirk watched me climb in, or at least I could feel his gaze on me through his dumb anime shades.

"So, you aren't going to leave me any room to lie down when I feel like sleeping," he asked as I situated myself in the middle of the mattress.

"There's the edge. Besides, if you're anything like you used to be, I doubt you'll even be ready for bed by time I get up in the morning anyway," I retaliated. He was always a night owl. Sometimes he would get up in the morning and wouldn't get to bed for at least thirty hours. It was insane. I could never do it, but I did spend the first twelve years of my life on an island in the middle of the ocean. I slept at night and woke at dawn. I couldn't stay up if I tried. Plus caffeine has absolutely no effect on me at all.

"Whatever. I'll probably just push you off and keep it to myself when I'm ready." He went to the closet to unpack his stuff.

"Try it and I'll shoot you," I said, turning away from the light and promptly falling asleep. Playing the part of a woman does wear you out after a few hours.

.

**Dirk's P.O.V. … again**

We weren't in the same room together for five minutes and already we were arguing. I could tell this wasn't going to be good for either of us. But I was serious when I said I would throw him off the bed if need be. Striders don't fuck around with stuff that needs to be done. I walked in the closet to unpack my clothes and was greeted by a mannequin head with a wig on it. Next to it was a few other things set up with jewelry identical to my wife's, if just a little bit bigger, considering finger and neck sizes. And since when did Jake have pierced ears? Knowing him, he probably just had it done, or not. Who knows, or knew? Not me. Look, I'm rambling on again. Just. Fucking. Fantastic. You think you have finally kicked a habit and all of a sudden you start it up again like nothing ever happened.

But he was right. I probably would be up all night working. After college I went on to become a professional web designer and AI developer. I am LOADED. I had a project that needed to be done as quickly as possible, so I couldn't waste any time not working on it. It was a new program to allow the government to more easily hack into the Alternian defense system. Ever since the Condesce took power, tensions began rising between the trolls on the main planet and us on the satellites, along with the growing oppression of the hemospectrum. The government has been preparing for war, so they assigned me and other technological megaminds to come up with new, legitimately foolproof defenses. I opted for a hacking program. Yeah, Striders don't fuck around, but we don't like to do all that much work either, except for my annoying twin. He just so happens to be the First Gentlemen, the husband of Jake's cousin, who just so happens to be the President of the human race. I think I would much rather stay with them instead of in this hotel room. Seriously, we both vow to never speak of anything related to what happened between us in the past and he automatically refers it. Some "friend" he is, huh. I'm sure you'll all take my side on this.

Wow, I am just going on and on and on, aren't I. What was I even talking about? Oh, yeah. Anyway, I had been working on this hacking superprogram for two months at this point in time and was almost finished with the coding. All I would have to do to test it out was to hack into the government's system and show them that it's finished. So yeah, I would probably be working all night on it. And that's what I did … I think. All I know is that one minute I was working on it, the next, I feel something poke me in the back, effectively waking me up. I turned around and saw Jake trying his best to fit his ass into a tight dress. "What are you doing," I asked, curious as to what exactly he was doing that for at six o'clock in the morning.

"Getting ready for work," he replied nonchalantly as he finally got the button through the little hole, holding the dress up. "Why," I asked.

"Because I have a job," he replied, once again, nonchalantly.

"But you're filthy fucking rich," I complained. Yeah, I actually complained about that. Hell, I was, and still filthy fucking rich. Why would I be concerned about whether he was or not?

"But sitting around all day is boring. And it was kind of in your wife's job description," he replied nonchalantly while buttoning up a blouse that matched the dress.

"What's your problem," I asked, annoyed at the way he was talking to me. "You talk like you don't care about anything."

"My problem is that last night, you waltzed on the last fucking nerve I had for you." This time, he wasn't nonchalant and he was facing me with a scowl on his face. "For several years, I tried to contact you to try and rebuild our friendship. I had several nerves for you, and each slowly died out as the years went by. Last night, I had only one left for you, and you start an argument and that just made it die. I have nothing left for you! No cares, no worries, no nothing! _You_ are my problem. Now, I always go to work around an hour and a half early. I don't see why you would be so concerned. Just go back to doing what you were doing before you fell asleep."

"So you don't even care that you woke me up?"

"Why would I? Dirk, you've turned into a complete jerk in the past fifteen years. Why would I care about anything involving you?" He went back in the closet to retrieve a pair of heels. What he said actually did sting a little … okay, more than just a little. And I couldn't figure out why. Perhaps it was because he was right? Perhaps I had become a jerk. But if so, then why was Jay putting up with me? She doesn't care about jerks.

Ten minutes later, he walked out the hotel room, leaving me alone. I was actually pretty tired, so I walked over to the bed and threw one pillow off the floor. I hadn't even realized when I climbed in that I was using his pillow. I was just concerned about sleep. But after a half hour of just lying there without sleeping, I realized it. But for some reason, I never switched pillows. Instead, I just lied there pondering the question as to why his comment about me stung so much. I did so for the next however long it took for me to fall asleep.


End file.
